


Wounded Pride

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [120]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Drabble, F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promptfic. Sten and a Pride Demon, a stain on your soul</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounded Pride

He has but the span of a single breath before pain crushes him from every side. It is hot and cold and terrible all at once. The craggy, horned Pride Demon has one massive paw upon his chest, his armour screaming in protest, and Asala is beyond reach of his bloodied fingers.

“Foolish mortal,” it growls. How it does so with no lips, he is uncertain. The sound seems to echo inside his skull, rich and rough and mocking. “Thinks itself strong, a rock against the tide. Thinks itself above others, yet has stooped to their level.”

Sten reaches desperately for Asala. His reward is a claw sliding past battered plate and into his flesh. Alistair charges from behind, but a wave of blindingly blue energy crashes into him and bowls him off his feet. Its other forelimb swats him backwards.

“Makes sounds, like others,” the demon notes. “Sounds like other flesh things. This one has done wrongs. Cannot make them right.” It leers down at him, expecting fear. Expecting death, or despair.

Pain, yes, it is there. But along with it growing strength.

“This I already know,” the Qunari spits out of bloodstained lips. “Your point. Make it.”

And then there is Mahariel, her aim true and her bow swift, as arrows rain upon the demon, piercing it in soft parts and wounds already made, and into the claw which holds down Sten’s bleeding sword-arm. It’s a small distraction, but enough for him to make one desperate lunge for his weapon, breaking free of his adversary’s grip. With all the remaining strength in his off-hand, he rams Asala into the demon’s chest, where any living creature would have a heart. And twists.

That’s the last thing he remembers of that day.


End file.
